


Sweater Weather

by WhenItsDarkOut



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenItsDarkOut/pseuds/WhenItsDarkOut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles loves Derek too much and Derek loves him too little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first AO3 short story, I'm pretty excited. I have no idea about the storyline, I just got inspired by some music.
> 
> Song: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

" These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for. Inside this place is warm, outside it starts to pour "

Stiles sat slumped across the couch with his gangly legs hanging off, tapping his feet in the air to an imaginary rhythm. The roaring fireplace was so warm that the left side of his pale face was flushed pink and slightly moist with sweat. It was almost uncomfortable but he didn't want to move. In fact, he hadn't moved from his position in 45 minutes; with his right arm resting behind his head and one leg crossed on the other. He felt so warm on the outside but on the inside he had never felt so cold.

It was the same, every night. Derek would call at some ungodly hour and he didn't even have to say it, Stiles already knew what he wanted. It didn't matter how many times he'd psych himself up beforehand, but as soon as he heard that rough, deep, demanding voice over the crackly house phone he was putty in Derek’s hands. He’d come over, they'd have a quick fuck, and then he'd be gone. He’d leave as quickly and quietly as a breeze, but he'd leave a mess like a hurricane. 

Stiles hated himself for it, how he let Derek do this. It hurt so bad but it felt so good; to have Derek’s lips against his, to have his hands holding down his hips as they reached Cloud Nine.

They’d lie together, in the same bed but not the same mind space. So close and intimate but so far from each other they could be in different galaxies. Derek would be all the way on the other side of the bed as if he was scared of touching Stiles and Stiles would be scrunched up in a cocoon of bedsheets, beating himself until he was in tears. He longed for it; to be in Derek’s arms, where nothing could hurt him. But he knew it would never happen, Derek Hale doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. Selfish bastard.

Stiles sighed, his arm had become sore from being tucked up with his hand on his neck but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. What was there to care about?

The door slowly creaked open and in walked Derek, with his jeans back on but no shirt. 

He gave a weak smile and said, “Hey.”

Stiles clenched his jaw slightly and stared at the flickering fire, he could see shirtless Derek in the corner of his eye but he forced himself to not look. “I thought I said you could wear one of my shirts.”

“They were too small.” 

Stiles smirked with sad eyes. “Of course, they were.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek said. 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Derek rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen. Stiles could hear him raiding the cupboards, typical Derek. Either wants sex or food- or both. He came back with a multicoloured mug that looked way too cheerful for the mood.

Derek must’ve seen Stiles’s inquisitive gaze because he sat down in front of him, their faces a suitable distance apart, with his legs crossed on the ground and held up the mug and said, “Coffee.”

Stiles shrugged and turned towards the couch. He wasn't in a mood to fuck and, this time, he was determined not to let his feelings get the better of him.

Derek put a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Hey, you alright?”

“Don’t touch me, Derek.” Stiles said gruffly and Derek took his hand off.

He immediately felt guilty. It wasn't Derek’s fault if anything it was Stiles’s. He should've stopped it the night it first happened, but he didn't and he'd have to live with the consequences.

He sighed aloud and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Derek didn't reply and he worried that he'd upset him. Just before he turned to look at him he heard him put the mug down next to the arm of the sofa, the side of the couch dipped down as Derek crawled up and spooned Stiles. He tucked his legs in and Derek moulded his shape to fit Stiles’s. 

“We can’t keep doing this Derek.”

There was a moment of silence until Derek spoke softly. “I know.”

He snaked an arm around Stiles’s waist and Stiles let it stay, even if his conscious was telling him no. 

“Did you mean it?” Stiles whispered.

“Did I mean what?” Derek whispered back just as quietly.

“When we were fucking, you said you loved me.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand that was lying flat across his stomach and gave it a pleading squeeze. “Did you mean it?”

“I… I don’t know Stiles,” He said softly. “It was in the spur of the moment.”

“Is that all this is… spur of the moment? Is that all you think of us as, a stupid fling?” Stiles said, his voice cracking as tears pricked his eyes.

“Hey, hey. Stiles.” Derek scooped Stiles body up and shifted around so he was sitting up and Stiles was on his lap. 

Tears were threatening to spill and Stiles was having a hard time keeping them in. Once one had escaped they came flooding down like a hot river down his cheeks.

Derek wiped them away with his thumb. “Hey, Stiles. Don’t cry.” Stiles mumbled something Derek couldn't understand. “I can’t understand you, Stiles. Take a deep breath and talk to me.”

“I-it’s not fair!” He cried out. He didn't care how ugly he looked, he couldn't stop crying. “It hurts, it hurts so bad.”

Derek took Stiles’s cheeks in his hands and pressed their lips together. Derek could taste the salty tears on Stiles’s lips and it hurt him to know that he caused them. 

Stiles pulled away, putting his hands across his face and sighing. “We can’t… we can’t do this, Derek.”

“Do what?” Derek asked.

“This,” He said, running a finger across Derek’s bare collarbone and giving him a small smile. “Derek we have to stop.”

Derek looked up at him with sad eyes. “Do you love me, Stiles?”

“…Yes.” Stiles said quietly.

Derek leant up and kissed Stiles again, this time, slow and sultry. He took Stiles’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently earning him a soft moan. His arm snaked around Stiles’s waist so he could pull him closer. Stiles put his cool hands on Derek’s bare chest as the kiss deepened, both of them getting hotter with every passing second.

They separated and pressed their foreheads together, enjoying each others presence.

“What are we going to do Derek?” Stiles asked, looking into Derek’s eyes.

“I don’t know, Stiles,” Derek said, looking back into Stiles’s brown eyes. “I don’t know.”


End file.
